


first love

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Kerberos Mission, Seemingly unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:26:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: Keith can feel his heart pound wildly in a desperate beat, as Adam slowly draws the dog tags out from underneath his shirt.





	first love

Keith plays with the dog tags between his fingertips. Slides a thumb across the smooth metal, across the ridged outlines of letters and string of numbers. Feels the coolness draped across his neck. Replays the launch, with all its pomp and circumstance, Shiro and the Holts waving goodbye for the cameras.

He can’t remember a time where it didn’t hurt.

It’s a different kind of ache from racing into the desert horizon, or watching Shiro work on his hoverbike, uniform jacket tied around his waist. Or even the constant carve in his chest that started when a social worker appeared in his classroom, asking for Keith Kogane to come pack his things.

Keith’s never been to the ocean, not in this hellscape of a desert state he’s never left, but he imagines what it’s like, trapped in a riptide, tugged farther and farther away from the shore. Or being tossed around like sand and seaweed in a never-ending cycle, every scrape wearing him down to the core. He’s read about tsunamis: the water being yanked back. The panic of that constant ocean, gone. The horrible, eerie stillness.

He lies in his bed, now. The bunker is completely silent, save for the quiet humming of the air conditioner. He’s turned off his Garrison-issued datapad, which now has a jagged crack along its screen. Maybe he’ll have to pay for it. _Go ahead_ , he thinks _. I have nothing._

There’s a knock on his door, then a soft beep, and Keith rolls away, knees curling close to his chest. Iverson, maybe. Or an officer in this corridor. Or his head sergeant, who was all too happy to redirect his authority to Shiro when he volunteered.

But, no. It's Adam.

Keith freezes, drops the dog tags down his shirt, and stands at attention in a salute.

For a long moment, Adam doesn't speak, seeming to take in Keith’s appearance: uncombed hair, wrinkled black shirt and crumpled jeans, furrowed crease between his red-rimmed eyes, dark circles standing out against the pallor of his skin. He hasn’t looked in a mirror in days, but his roommate, before leaving for classes, made a remark about how Keith needed a shower. Keith wonders if he’s reported him, or if someone actually gave a shit to check to make sure he was alive.

Shiro would have. Wouldn’t have let even a single day go by without dropping in with smuggled snacks or a promise of a weekend hoverbike ride. It had been so different from the long stretches of time where the most anyone said to him was to scold him for something that happened at school or a reminder to finish his chores. And foolishly, Keith allowed himself to get used to it.

Keith's arm is beginning to cramp from the strain when Adam finally says, "At ease.”

He drops his arm, letting it fall to his side like a dead weight.

"You haven't been to class this week," Adam continues. He's always been blunt; Keith wonders if that was a trait Shiro liked.

"No," Keith simply says.

Adam’s gaze is stern. "You need to attend them."

"I don't care."

"You're being ungrateful. After everything—"

"Like you care," Keith snaps.

There's a long pause, then Adam straightens up, the image of a perfect solider, but Keith can see the anger dancing in his eyes, behind those stupid librarian glasses. All he needed, Keith thought viciously, was a chain connecting the ends. With charms. 

Keith hates him. Hates him for looking like he hasn’t been ripped apart at the seams. Hates him for being the one to receive all the condolences, the concern, the care. Hates him for being so goddamn perfect.

"I've revoked your outside privileges," Adam says calmly. "Takashi may have been content to bend the rules for you, but these are privileges that are earned, and you have not earned them."

Hot blood rushes to Keith's cheeks, and without thinking, reaches up towards his neck, before quickly dropping his hand.

Of course, Adam notices. "What is that?"

Keith freezes. Stupid. Stupid.

Adam reaches forward, lifts his chin between index finger and thumb, then trails down, down, his neck to the silver chain. Keith can feel his heart pound wildly in a desperate beat, as Adam slowly draws the dog tags out from underneath his shirt, holding them flat in one palm.

"Where did you get these?"

The memory emboldens him: Shiro unfastening the chain, hands trembling as he worked open the clasp. Draping it around Keith's neck like a promise, then stepping forward for one last hug. How the tags pressed against his chest, through the fabric of his uniform. There had been no space for family, or next of kin, that link between them making Keith feel both sorrowful and connected at the same time, just the two of them against the world. "I didn't steal them, if that's what you're wondering."

Adam looks at him sharply. "That's not an answer."

"Shiro gave them to me. At the launch.” Adam’s too close; he can still feel the brush of fingers lingering on his skin, the stretch of thin metal links tugging at the back of his neck. “Which he didn't invite you to."

Adam drops the tags, stepping away. "Because he felt sorry for you."

"Fuck off," Keith says, but his voice comes out too small. Too quickly, he scans his mind for something equally cutting: "You didn't stop him. You let him go.”

This time, Adam flinches, and it gives Keith less pleasure than he thought. "What, do you think he would have stayed for you?”

“Maybe,” Keith says. This is going nowhere good, but he can’t seem to stop himself: “I wouldn’t have given him a shitty ultimatum: give up your dreams and stay to watch me die. Where the hell do you get off? You playing the hero, getting to save him every time? Who do you think you are?”

Adam laughs, choked like a sob. “I’m thinking more than some disrespectful, trouble-making cadet who only enabled him at every turn. You think I didn’t see? Playing the good cop, the better boyfriend, hoping Shiro would finally see you more than some lost puppy. Where did that—" He stops, closing his eyes, and Keith lets out a shallow breath. "Fuck you."

 _Nobody wins until nobody wins,_ Keith thinks bitterly.

Adam’s hand darts forward, seizing the dog tags, and Keith flinches when the links twist against his neck. He wonders if Adam’s going to strangle him. He wouldn’t blame him.

But Adam only looks at him, considering, then pulls.

There's a sharp burst of pain when the clasp snaps against the back of Keith's neck. Almost gently, Adam tugs the chain away, the loose ends dangling from his fingers.

Keith's eyes widen, making a grab for them, but Adam easily holds the dog tags out of reach. "You give those back,” he demands. He’s not too proud to beg. For this. For Shiro.

 _Bring him back!_ He'd shouted at the stars, on the same roof where he and Shiro watched the meteor shower two years ago; where Shiro showed him how to locate the North Star using his thumb and fist; where they’d spent Shiro’s last night on Earth, talking about everything and nothing. He wishes he could remember it, now. That he’d committed every single second to memory.

And he wonders if Shiro would have stayed, if he’d asked. If he’d dared. Been so sure of his place in Shiro’s life, like Adam.

"They don't belong to you," Adam says, not looking at Keith, cradling the dog tags in his palm.

"You give them back," Keith repeats, but it’s futile, he knows. He still feels the sting against the back of his neck.

Adam tucks them into his pocket. "They were never yours." The rest is implicit: _like Shiro was never yours._

He then looks at Keith like he's another problem that he's checked off his list but never wanted to do it in the first place. There's also something else, too—an apology, maybe. "You better show up tomorrow, cadet."

With that, Adam turns on his heel and leaves, the door sliding shut behind him.

Keith collapses back on the bed, burying his head into his knees and, for the first time since the announcement, begins to cry.


End file.
